


Subtle Plans of Attack

by BlueWolves



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueWolves/pseuds/BlueWolves
Summary: “Geralt, I have-!”“Hm.”And he’d already left. Wonderful.Jaskier was already off to a brilliant success.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 113
Collections: Eat Drink and Make Merry 2020





	Subtle Plans of Attack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Plaid_Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/gifts).



> Hello, The_Plaid_Slytherin! I hope you enjoy this!  
> And thank you so much to my beta, who helped me so much!

It hadn’t taken Jaskier long to realise, while travelling with the Witcher, that it might be a tad more difficult than he’d thought to get Geralt to open up. Perhaps he should have realised with the punch and the what-have-you, but Jaskier was an optimist, thank you. 

All he needed was a plan of action. A subtle plan of attack, if you will. Something to burrow under his Witcher's defences and find that softness, that goodness, that Jaskier knew was there. From the love Geralt held for Roach, to the way he’d protected Jaskier, even when Geralt had hardly known him! An easily-spotted fracturing of the so-called ‘emotionless demeanour’ that seemed to pervade the very fabric of the continent's opinion of Witchers, yet one that happened to be ignored again and again. 

Jaskier would do everything in his power to change how the people of the continent saw Witchers, give them a glimpse through his own eyes and let them hear the truth for once. The specific details, honestly, did not matter so much as the general idea of it. A catchy tune, a pithy phrase - agonised over, and over, and  _ over _ \- and the song stuck in the mind long enough to do its work. 

Still, Jaskier considered, it wouldn’t be hard to do all of that immense work and plan his subtle attack, too. Multitasking, as it were. Killing two birds with lots of little stones, or perhaps a boulder for the particularly obtuse. 

Genuine praise and admiration? Thrown out. If not outright ignoring, Jaskier merely received a ‘hm’ or, if Geralt was feeling particularly daring, a ‘hn’. Oh, and Jaskier need not bring his  _ songs  _ into it, now did he? 

Fillingless pie, indeed!

Gifts were considered more carefully, then reconsidered. It could be a start, Jaskier supposed, though Jaskier could not conceive of the Witcher accepting anything of frivolity. Not the expensive clothing that Jaskier himself enjoyed, even if Geralt might look dashing in a splash of colour… or the perfumes he indulged in. Practicality might be the key, then. Jaskier could grudgingly admit that he would be rather useless at finding half the things that the Witcher might accept off the bat, if only for the fact that everything Geralt had was still in working order. A waste of money that they both shared to keep themselves warm at an inn when able, and to put hot food in their stomachs. 

Oh, honestly, the only thing Jaskier might have half a chance of sneaking past Geralt's defences was food... 

_ Ooh _ ! 

-

“Geralt, I have - !”

“Hm.”

And he’d already left. Wonderful. 

Jaskier was off to a brilliant success. 

\- 

The second, fifth, ninth times went a little better, if Geralt actually being present and accounted for could be considered 'better'. Nothing else but a raise of an eyebrow at the food, followed quickly by eating - which was the point of it all, Jaskier could concede, but little else changed. Geralt's prickly coating reared up at the most inopportune times, just when Jaskier thought that progress had been made. 

Not that Jaskier would want him to be anything but his lone wolf with a penchant for brooding - _ oh, that might make a good lyric, hm _ \- but it would nice to have  _ some _ things mentioned verbally as it were.

For instance, some completely random and not at all serious suggestions: telling Jaskier when he decided to go off on a hunt; telling Jaskier when he decided to leave and continue on his journey; or, from a purely hypothetical standpoint, admitting to their friendship. Out loud. Where people might, perchance, hear it. 

All wonderful starting points, Geralt. 

Yet Jaskier would persevere! True, there might be no overt changes, and nothing fast enough for Jaskier’s impatient heart, but the subtlest of changes was still a change all the same - even more so for the Continent's Broodiest Witcher. Some things were worth the wait, were worth playing the long game. Slow and steady and all of that. 

Jaskier had nothing but time to give his Witcher - it would be worth it in the end. 

“Are you going to eat that, Jaskier, or stare at me?” Geralt flatly said, mouth a thin line. There was no way to read any part of it as anything less than irritation, but Jaskier knew better than to take things at face value now! Jaskier had caught the little flickers of looks, the tiny hints of bemusement caught in the edges. Perhaps not the undying vow of friendship that Jaskier strove for, but something all the same. 

“I’m merely savouring the moment, Geralt,” Jaskier said. “Who knows when such a feast will be spread before us again! All other fare must tremble before such a delicacy, don’t you agree? Why, even the drink is beyond compare!” 

“Hm.” 

Geralt didn’t say anything more, neither showing one way or another whether he enjoyed the somewhat more upscale inn food. But Jaskier was on a mission. One of utmost importance, that required a little more than the normal fare could grant him. And if his recent generous, adoring audience granted him the ability to do so, who was Jaskier to refuse?

Speaking of adoring audiences - the inn had quieted down some since Jaskier had left the stage, though a pleasant hum remained, enough to obscure most of the surrounding conversations. Jaskier had left their table to acquire more drink, still too wired to sleep, though it wouldn’t be long before the call of a hot bath and a soft bed became too much to bear. To say goodbye to another day, and prepare anew to tackle his goals. 

He was on his way back when he came to a pause, seeing his seat already taken by someone new - desperate and pleading from what he could tell. Only growing visibly more so, for all that Jaskier couldn’t get a good look at their face from where he stood. It wasn’t long before they took their leave. Jaskier didn’t have to hear the conversation to know what had taken place, what had been exchanged, and that a warm bath and a good night's sleep were most likely no longer on the menu. He tossed a stab of disappointment to the side. It would be another chance to gain inspiration, to add another tale to the White Wolf’s collection, and, really, to watch Geralt in action.

Jaskier was but a simple bard with simple wants and needs.

“So!” Jaskier said brightly, setting the drinks on the table. “Where are we off to, then?”

Geralt just grunted and walked out of the inn - Jaskier hot on his heels, unwilling to be left behind again. Did Geralt think these songs wrote themselves?

Honestly!

-

Another inn and another contract, though at least they’d been able to get use of the amenities before they’d had to set off this time. The contract was simple enough; drowners, lots of them, but something Geralt should be able to deal with easily. It might take some time, depending on how many, but Jaskier had no doubt that Geralt would succeed and come out on top as he always did. 

And so, of course, it went tits up. 

It took awhile for Jaskier to feel warm again even with the summer air, cold and damp and fed up as he was. Jaskier had had a front row seat to it alright, and had gotten soaked for his troubles! And to top it all off they couldn’t even make it back to the inn! Another night under the stars, only made bearable by the company, by the half-formed thoughts of what he could do with what he’d seen. If only he wasn’t soaked through, so that he could grab his pencil and write down his thoughts. 

So focused was Jaskier on song lyrics and low grumblings that Geralt handing him part of the food he’d hunted and cooked startled him out of his thoughts.

“Thank you, Geralt,” Jaskier said, softer than he’d intended, a little later than he should have. The cooked meat was warm in his hands. Oh, they’d shared meals before, of course - standard campfire fare, things Geralt had caught, more so when they were in desperate need of food and had little in the way of funds. It really should have just been routine, nothing to take note of, nothing for Jaskier to be caught on. 

But there was something that had been itching at Jaskier all day, ever since the moment they’d set off, since Geralt had started another contract and Jaskier had followed along. Really, it had been at the back of Jaskier’s mind since he’d started his plan of attack! It hadn’t even left Jaskier alone when they’d looked for the drowners, nor when Geralt’s usual plan of ‘locate and kill’ went a little sideways.

_ Bah _ ! Perhaps Jaskier was only imagining it. Nothing was different - certainly not Geralt, settled near Roach and eating his own rations, but Jaskier could scarcely pull his eyes off of him. It had become a pastime; or rather, Jaskier had always done it, how could he not? But it had increased exponentially with his little mission to burrow under Geralt’s defences. To, at the very least, let him know that he was cared for, that he was loved, and that Jaskier...

Oh. 

Oh!

_ Bollocks. _

Frantically going over his actions of the last few weeks, Jaskier was dismayed - nay, betrayed! - to realise that his ulterior motive might have been even  _ more _ ulterior than even he had thought. 

Jaskier was a bard. He lived and breathed poetry. How couldn’t he have noticed?! How had it taken this long? It wasn't that Jaskier was opposed to Geralt - he had  _ eyes _ , thank you - but Jaskier had always erred on the side of friendship. Jaskier would admit to a flirtation or two, but how could he not? When Geralt, even while prickly and guarded, could be so heroic and brave and a selfless fool and so lovely, and… oh. 

_ Oh _ .

Well. That solved that, Jaskier thought, chagrined. As Geralt so loved to say,  _ fuck.  _

This might, possibly, call for a review of Jaskier’s brilliant plan. 

It might have taken Jaskier a few years, a few weeks, to realise but that didn’t mean he was going to lock it away any more, no sir! 

Jaskier hadn’t originally set out to woo his Witcher with food, but food being one of the few things that appeared to be working - because Jaskier could sneak it by Geralt, to be fully honest - he’d make do with it once more. Why throw away a perfectly good plan? He hadn’t followed his previous mission to its almost certain conclusion of allowing Geralt to talk about their bonds of friendship with ease, of course, but plans had always been made to be tweaked, to allow for new ideas to form and be absorbed to make a new whole. 

Which was to say - Jaskier had every intention of using his previous plan of plying Geralt with food in the name of friendship to now ply him with food in the name of romantic pursuit. 

Truly foolproof in every way. 

-

“Jaskier.”

“Yes, Geralt?”

“Is there a reason - ” Geralt cut himself off, frown only growing deeper as he avoided Jaskier’s gaze, instead looking around the room a touch desperately. 

“...Geralt?”

“I’ve got to go. Contract.”

“Wait, Geralt, aren’t you at least going to finish - ? Oh, for the  _ love of -  _ ” 

Jaskier threw back his drink and quickly followed Geralt out. 

If Jaskier were a lesser man, if Jaskier were anyone else, he might have taken this as a sign to stop. Thankfully, Jaskier was no lesser man! It hadn’t taken Jaskier long to realise that Geralt was a good man: wrapped in emotional repression, sprinkled with heroics and courage and then, again, covered with even more e _ motional constipation _ .

However! Jaskier had not given up - nay, he had barely even begun. Jaskier prided himself on being persistent, and if he could slowly but surely poke and prod until the oh-so-lovely population understood the  _ truth _ about Witchers, then said Witcher should surely be a much easier feat in comparison, right?

Right.

-

Footsteps paused at the edge of their camp, a soft ‘hm’ alerting Jaskier to who it was before he’d even had a chance to grab something or scamper off. Most likely the latter, what with the little promise he’d made to Geralt of ‘running to safety’ if need be and all that. Not that Jaskier had any complaints about the plan! Jaskier rather liked breathing, thank you, and between his limited options of weapons - a flimsy wooden spoon, and perhaps a rock if Jaskier wanted to get particularly creative - Jaskier was all for the plan of running and hiding and waiting for help. 

“Jaskier?”

“Geralt!” Jaskier said, not turning around. “I’ll be with you in but a moment, my good friend. Have you found anything else to add, perchance? Another rabbit?”

Jaskier kept his focus on cooking the stew to perfection. They did not have much in the way of variety or spices, unfortunately, but it would be hot and as tasty as Jaskier knew how to make it with limited supplies. Jaskier would like to treat Geralt to something better, to something full of flavour - but, if nothing else, Jaskier could cook a simple meal so Geralt didn’t have to. 

“Hm.” 

Ah, as eloquent as always. 

“Is there a reason,” Geralt started, before stopping. He seemed unaware or uncaring of how Jaskier stopped stirring the stew, heart in his throat. “That you’re acting like. That.”

“Like what, Geralt? To what are you referring? Me, cooking? I’ll have you know I am a brilliant cook! I had to be, you know, there were times when needs must, when I was but a simple bard, alone - ”

“I meant,” Geralt said, cutting him off (rude), “why the cooking, and why the food. What are you up to, Jaskier?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Geralt,” Jaskier lied, returning to stirring the stew with vigour. 

This was the man who, Jaskier was half-sure, had jumped on Roach to outrun his feelings and had now come to confront Jaskier about his. Picking one of the few moments when Jaskier wasn’t expecting it - the stew wasn’t even done! If Geralt could wait but a few moments, then Jaskier could set his plan into motion, feeding Geralt while confessing his feelings. His new-old feelings. It had brought him thus far, after all. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt said bluntly. “Quit stalling and speak  _ plainly _ .”

Of course, that would entail Geralt letting him. Jaskier, however, could stall with the best of them… when he wanted to, at least. Jaskier no longer thought he did, a foolproof plan be damned. It had snuck up on him, that he would have to eventually confess, to lay all his cards on the table for Geralt to see, that is. 

There had been a cushion there before he’d figured out his feelings, one that had been forcibly pulled from under him the moment his plan had shifted. Geralt would always be one of his dearest friends, no matter the outcome, and Geralt’s friendship was a treasure Jaskier would always keep. But Jaskier desired to know...

And, perhaps, Jaskier’s plan had finally lost out to his impatient heart.

“Perhaps I should have just used the boulder to start with, hm?”

“ _ What _ .”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, unable to contain the twitching of his mouth, the laughter that wanted to bubble up. Nerves and love and anticipation fighting for dominance. Waiting for any hint that it would be welcome would have stopped the butterflies in his stomach, but there was no more time for waiting! Jaskier had never run away from something he desperately wanted, and he would not run away from this. Jaskier could no sooner run from Geralt than he could sell his lute. A horrible, horrible thought. 

"That is to say, Geralt, that perhaps I did have an ulterior motive as it were, a subtle plan - ” 

"Jaskier."

"I may have,” Jaskier continued, ignoring Geralt, ”perhaps, tried to seduce you with food into admitting to our friendship which may have, in turn, proven a little too effective with me and made me re-evaluate a few things, if you will. Namely, a redefinition of my own feelings, and how they pertain - "

" _ Jaskier _ ."

"Oh, alright, these past few weeks I have been attempting to seduce you with food. Romantically, this time. Are you happy now, Geralt?"

Geralt looked delightfully poleaxed, face soft and slack. It… suited him. His guard may not have been lowered from a feeling of safety and love, Jaskier would take what he could get. Oh, it wasn’t the exact reaction Jaskier had wanted, but there had always been two ways this could have gone, and either one Jaskier could live with. 

That is, as long as neither took him from Geralt’s side - if a rejection was his answer, Jaskier would merely write a few songs of heartache, perhaps, and move on. At Geralt’s side, still. 

“You tried to,” Geralt said, slowly, “seduce me. With food.”

“Yes, yes, was anything I said unclear? It was a subtle plan of attack!”

Geralt breathed through his nose heavily, a whole array of delightful emotions fighting for dominance. Oh, there was exasperation coming out to play, and - dare it be? - what could only be described as Geralt’s ‘what the fuck’ face. Truly, those that lived by the adage that Witchers don’t feel had never gotten on one's last nerve. 

“I don’t suppose asking could have been an option?”

“I had a  _ plan _ , Geralt,” Jaskier said, primly. “I couldn’t have just asked. I had thought I had left my intentions plain enough to see!”

“Plain, hm? So plain that you’d decided to make your intentions known by feeding me, and hoping it came across?” Geralt said dryly. ”For some reason, I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Well,” Jaskier said, considering, “I suppose, when you put it like  _ that _ …”

A snort of laughter distracted Jaskier enough that he only had but a moment to think:  _ oh _ . 

So that was what kissing Geralt was like. A shock to the system, a tingling up the spine, nothing could have prepared him. A rough hand gently holding the back of his head; always so gentle, his Geralt, when he was allowed to be. 

Kissing back made it even better. Soft and warm and everything Jaskier wanted. What he’d waited for, while he planned and spoiled Geralt, gathering the courage slowly. To earn his friendship and to, hopefully, gain his love, too. 

It was  _ perfect _ , wondrous, amazing! Songs could be written for it, and they would pale in comparison. Always. 

“You could have asked,” Geralt said, lowly, expression softer than anything Jaskier had ever seen. “You’d only needed to ask, Jaskier.”

For once, Jaskier was the silent one, hands cupping either side of Geralt’s face. Words caught in his throat, never to see the light of day; they would never be able to encapsulate all that he felt, all that he wanted to convey. A mere mockery of it all. 

“I’m asking now," he said. "Is this my answer?”

Geralt touched his forehead to Jaskier’s, searching his eyes, lips twisting into a smile. As if Geralt hadn’t already taken all of Jaskier’s breath. Happiness, Jaskier decided dazedly, looked good on Geralt. Jaskier intended to keep it there. Forever and more. 

“The first of many, Jaskier.”


End file.
